


...Úreu... (Ours)

by zeesmuse



Series: ...His... Mine... and Ours [3]
Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-06 14:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeesmuse/pseuds/zeesmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mid-life Crisis or something else completely? Years of being the go-between for Eomer King and his former love, Wudurose, has its price and Gamling decides it's time to collect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Note: Ithilian hens are Cornish hens and Westfold Taynors are Gypsy Vanners._
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> _In addition, this piece was written several chapters before ...His... was finished. Therefore, it is truly the Muses work, rather than some well-aimed hammers of suggestion..._

****

Úreu. Æt áscian æt mæting 

****

Ours: To learn to dream. 

**Timeline: Thirteen years after The War of the Rings.**

 

For not the first time, I looked behind me, double-checking to make sure I was not being followed, that my meager belongings had not fallen from my saddle, that all four horses tethered behind me were there still. My king and friend informed me as I left that it was disgusting that everything I owned in this world after almost fifty-seven summers could be contained in a bedroll and two pairs of saddle bags. I snorted. I was never one to collect possessions. That was for someone with roots, something a career soldier, which I was, could not have.

For not the first time, I wondered if I were insane. I could be setting myself up for the fall of a lifetime. Quite frankly, this was folly. For years, Éomer openly offered me a position in the king’s guard; I would live in Edoras, stay put, be assigned nicer quarters, would have the chance to find someone, settle down, if it were my wish. I had declined for years, as he knew I would, as he needed eyes and ears and no one else could be trusted to bring back the information he so desired. He compensated me well for turning the position down.

So it was with great surprise to him – and me to be quite honest – when he asked again, that out of the blue I told him what I had been pondering for some time.

“I tire of traveling back and forth, sire. I am getting too old for intrigue.” His jaw dropped. “You have gifted me property in the east. Allow me to settle it and raise horses. I can continue to keep an eye on things and report to you as necessary.” In this, I silently assured him that some things would not change.

I expected him to follow me, truth be told. On more than one occasion, he demanded to go to her, to see her, to check on her and the boy himself. Always, I was able to talk sense into him. She was fine; she was more than well provided for, thanks to him. She managed her money and her property well. The boy, the unexpected son, was growing like a weed. He began his apprenticeship with the blacksmith the year before. Like his father, he was now a handful. 

I watched him covertly several times, tear across the open fields on the stallion she purchased. I had to look twice as I saw a young Éomer laughing at the wind. And he was entering those difficult teen years; another excuse I made for making this permanent move.

After days of travel, the huge spread came into view. How many times in the past had I sat on this rise and looked over what she had created? Even before what Éomer King so generously gifted her? And _still_ continued to gift her.

I could care less about her wealth. I had long been impressed by the stronger woman she became, how she stood in the face of much uncertainty and carved a place not only for her, but for her child. She would have done fine for herself, had done well for herself without the King’s aid.

Not that it mattered to Éomer. He was determined… 

But even now with three royal princelings and a fourth on the way, he still worried and fretted. I lied to myself, saying I came only to keep a permanent eye on things.

But that was exactly what I was doing: lying to myself. When my feelings changed, I will never know. 

I shook my head. Bah. I was putting off the inevitable. Checking my leads again, I began that trek down the hill to the new barn put up on her second property. I was not being particularly quiet, so one can imagine my surprise to hear raised voices coming from the barn.

“I am not stupid!” Wudurose’s voice was raised, not something I was accustomed to hearing from her. “That colt is worth much more than-“

“He is spindly-legged!” A nasally voice interrupted her.

“And bow-legged!” Another voice, whiney burst in.

“The colt is naught a day old!” Wudurose was definitely infuriated. If the colt they were discussing came from the stock from the royal stables in Aldburg, chances were likely the two men were attempting to fleece her. Edric, apparently home early from the village blacksmith, sweaty and tired looking, came around the other side of the barn, Éomund’s legendary fury already written across his features. He saw me in time to nod when I laid my finger to my lips and dismounted. I grabbed my Captain’s cloak, attaching it quickly and entered the barn. 

Two men… if one could call them that… stood with their backs to me. One was short-legged with a stomach that had seen too much ale, while the other was as spindly as a scarecrow. Both were dogging a very livid Wudurose. 

“Is there a problem?” All three jerked to look at me.

“It is none of your concern,” Pot-Belly snarled. Spindle-leg nodded in agreement.

I ignored them. “Wudurose? Should I be concerned?”

For a moment, I saw relief flash across features I found so very pleasing. It only lasted a moment and it made my heart skip a beat. As quickly, it vanished and ire returned. “Aye, you should be concerned, _Captain_!” She stepped back and gestured to the stall to her right. “The colt was born last night. These two,” she nodded derisively, “seem to think I should not bother with him and just sell him to them as soon as he is weaned, no other lookers.” She snorted, furiously. “And what they seem to think he is worth, would not buy a bag of feed!”

Pot-Belly began to protest, but a look from me, plus the fact he saw the rank of my cloak as I walked by, quietened him fast enough. I looked into the stall.

I recognized the mare; she was one of the long-maned, heavy wagon horses I ‘sold’ Wudurose two summers past that we called a ‘Westfold Taynor.’ This particular breed were bred to be strong work horses, pulling carts, heavy farm equipment, very desired and sought after in this part of Rohan. Peeking from around her, a long-legged newborn colt peered from behind her long, braided tail. His eyes were full of mischief and I could tell immediately he would be a challenge to break. I entered the stall quietly and squatted, clicking my tongue. The wee one came around and nosed at me, playfully butting my hand, his dam watching carefully. He had unusual, exquisite black and white markings and would be a striking to look at when he reached his full height. “Who is his sire?”

“Baldor, the marbled Taynor you sold me last me.” 

I nodded. I remembered clearly each horse I ‘sold’ her. Éomer and I would spend much time, culling from his stock in Aldburg to give her and this particular one had been a complicated choice. Spirited and difficult to break, the stablemaster had suggested he be gelded. Instead, we decided he would make more money as a breeding stallion. “How often have you bred him?”

Wudurose was standing above me. “Three times. This is the first to be born. The other two are due within the moon.”

The colt abandoned me, more interested in his mother’s milk. I watched him carefully before coming up from my heels and exiting the stall. I closed the stall gate behind me. “He will be huge, and already shows signs of a strong gait and a powerful chest. He is full of good humor and monkey business and will require a calm, steady hand.”

“That is what a whip is for,” Spindle-legs snickered.

“Not one of mine!” Wudurose snapped.

I towered over the scrawny man. “Not on my watch.” I backed him up into the planking.

“You may leave now. Rest assured I will never sell you one of my horses.” Never in my dealings with Éomer’s former love had I heard such anger.

Pot-Belly smacked Spindle-legs, pulling him from between me and the stall. “Times will not always be so good for her-“

This time, I pressed against Pot-Belly. “I would not count on that,” I hissed down at him, between my teeth. “She asked you to leave, nicely. I will not be so nice. Do not come back.”

In anger, the two turned, both of them purposely bumping young Edric roughly before leaving the barn. I saw his jaw and fist clench, and I followed the men out, making sure they did not bother my horse or the four tethered behind my saddle. Edric joined me, huffing angrily as the two mounted their nags and trotted down the path.

It took a moment for Éomer’s son to settle down. “I can honestly say,” he whispered, “that it is good to see you.” He nodded before looking over his shoulder. His mother joined him, both hands on his shoulders.

“Aye,” she agreed. “Your presence is welcome.” She looked over where my horse and company stood patiently. “More horses to sell me? I was not-“

“No. These are mine. They are not for sale.” She looked at me quizzically. “I have a request from you.”

“Ask.”

I gazed at her, drinking her in, before turning my attention to her son. “Does she really cook as well as you brag?”

Edric broke out into a smile, Éomer personified. “I snared several Ithilian hens yesterday! What she can do them will make your mouth water.”

Wudurose’s arms were now crossed and she bent over, inspecting her feet. “Then go to the house and take three from the root cellar. Make sure they are dressed. Grab some carrots and corn as well and punch down the bread that is rising on the sideboard. I will be down shortly to get them started.”

The boy whooped before retrieving his horse from the side of the barn and flying down the hill towards their house.

“He is a good lad, Wudurose. You have done well.”

She continued to watch him before turning to me. “You are traveling.” She plucked off a stray bit of straw from my cloak.

“I am moving.”

“Running away?”

I looked down at my boots. “No.”

It was quiet for a moment. 

“Where are you moving to?”

I felt my face flush. “I own the property above this piece-“

“You have been sent here permanently to spy on me!” Her fists clenched.

“No. I would refuse.” 

For a time, she stared at me, weighing my excuse and finding it lacking. She then nodded curtly to my horses. “I have several empty stalls. Put them in them and save a stall for yourself. When you are finished, come down to dinner. We will discuss your request.” The word ‘request’ was spat.

With that she turned and walked towards her house.

~*~ 


	2. Chapter 02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I have made a grave error regarding Gamling's age. In my world, he is 15 years Eomer's senior and therefor 19 years older than Wudurose. This would make it at this point in the story 57, rather then 59._

~*~

 

Many times over the years, Wudurose would invite me to dinner and I would always decline. It was not that I did not wish to share a meal; more I feared my feelings and wanting more than the uneasy friendship we seemed to have developed. As Edric bragged many times, (and unbeknownst to her, Éomer as well) she was a fine cook, the small game hens roasted and seasoned with a pleasing bite. Both vegetables were covered in a honey glaze and I ate too much warm bread. I feared I would become too wide to sit my horse if this kept up.

 

Edric was sent to feed the animals in the lower barn; Áblysian had passed away the previous winter and it was obvious Wudurose still grieved the loss of her cow. Fléotigu, the Westfold Taynor Éomer had given her so many years ago, was getting older as well and I smiled when Edric palmed an apple from the fruit bowl for the horse. As he headed for the door, he turned to his mother. “Tondhere’s mare was showing signs of labor and said if you were willing, I could come sit the night in the barn to help.” He eyed me with concern. “However, if you wish me to stay…” his voice trailed off.

 

“No. You go on.” Edric narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Gamling is a dear friend. I will be safe. He will make sure.”

 

I waited until the back door slammed. “He has always been distrustful of me.”

 

Wudurose was clearing the table and I got up to help her. One of the few things my mother drummed into my head before I joined Théoden King’s service was how to be a gracious guest. “He remembers well your first visit.” She looked at me over her shoulder. “You made me cry.”

 

“I am sorry for that. It was not my intent.”

 

There was a pail of water on her cupboard and she poured it into a large kettle, which she had me set on the hook in the fireplace to boil. “You should not be sorry.” She stepped back from the fireplace. “What is your request?”

 

I was always told that watching a pot would cause it to never boil, so I observed it closely. “I have decided to settle my property and breed horses for the King’s cavalry, as well as for Gondor and the Western Principalities. I would not,” I dared stop looking at the kettle and instead gazed at her, “go into competition against you.” My stare went back to the pot. “The land here is good for raising horses and livestock. It is quiet.”

 

“What do you want, Gamling?”

 

I tilted my head in thought. “I need a place to stay while building a home and barn and fencing. I would like to know who to trust, who would be willing to help, how much I need to pay them. I am familiar with barns, but not with a house; I have…” I faltered here for a moment, “always had a room in the barracks and ate my meals either in the Hall or camping.”

 

“Ah, Captain Gamling,” she laid her hand on my arm and it sent tingles into my spine, “finally growing up and moving out after all these years.” She used a hook to lift the large kettle and brought it carefully to her sideboard. Setting it down, she put our trenchers and eating utensils into the hot water. She opened a canister on the back of the sideboard and put in a ladle of powder, stirring it with a long tong. Putting things away, she wiped her hands on a cloth. “Come. We will go outside and talk while these things soak and the water cools a bit.”

 

Since my first visit, she had built a porch with a large overhang; at least no one would be left standing in the elements if they came knocking. On the far end was a long swing and she motioned for me to join her. “You will need plenty of logs and lumber. Most of the farmers around here have finished with their planting or soon will be. As long as you provide the celebration and food, most will aid in the building of your barn and it will be done in a day. Your home and fencing will be another matter.” She named off those who were reputable and suggested several hard-working young men, who were looking for extra coin. “Sighere is getting married in the summer. He has property, but needs money and help to build his home, purchase livestock. Chances are he will help you in exchange for your aid in a few months.” She tapped her lip thoughtfully. “A wedding gift of a pig or a few hens would be appreciated as well.” She continued to stare into the setting afternoon; unaware that the closeness of her was setting off a tingling I had not felt in ages.

 

I drummed my fingers against my knees while she rattled on, anything to keep my mind off my stiffening member. “It is just you? You are not planning to bring a woman here or start a family?”

 

The question startled me. “Why?”

 

She smiled that half smile she would get when she thought no one was looking. “If you need one room or two.” She shook her head. “You have been in the barracks too long.” She leaned back to study me. “Are you sure Éomer did not send you to spy on me?”

 

I decided to be honest with her. “This was my decision. I am tired of patrolling and being in the saddle constantly. He offered me a position in the King’s Personal Guard and I turned it down.” Her look clearly stated she did not believe me. “I tell you true, Wudurose. I am still a Captain under the King’s command and yes, I will have to report to him twice a year as I am raising horses for him. But I am not here to spy on you. No women. No family. Just me.”

 

She continued to study me, making me very nervous. Finally, she got up, leaving the swing lurching with me still in it. “With Edric gone tonight, you may sleep in his bed up under the eaves. After that you can make yourself at home in the new barn until yours is built.” She opened the door and entered her cottage, but not before I heard her say, “One room.”

 

~*~

 

The next two moons were a blur. I worked muscles I did not know I had. True to Wudurose’s word, once the planting was finished, farmers in the area chipped in to aid in the raising of my barn. I had no idea how many trees had to be felled and planked to build a barn, much less a house. The barn was raised in a day and I managed with Sighere’s help, to fence in a full two acres. He was young and in love and I envied his energy.

 

Until the barn and fence went up, I slept in Wudurose’s upper barn, taking one of the stalls for myself. It was bigger than any room I had ever called my own and I wondered how I would feel once I began to rattle around in an entire cottage that I would call my own. In the early evening, Edric would come find me, invite me to dinner and would tell me to bring a change of clothing. Not only would she have dinner waiting, but also a tub of hot water in her room, so at the least I could soak some of the soreness from my muscles. It was a comfort I was grateful for.

 

If the barn was easily built, the house was a different story. First, it rained. It rained for seven days straight. I would stand in the barn with my horses just staring, amazed at the downpour. When it finally quit raining, it was still wet.

 

Sighere came with several others with carpenter skills. I was surprised to see Wudurose with Fléotigu along with a young girl that Sighere immediately began mooning over and another heavy Taynor horse hooked to a cart. Edric was leading the horse hooked to the cart.

 

“And to what do I owe this visit to my mudhole?”

 

Wudurose was looking around – stomping around, to be honest. She wore leggings and old mud incrusted work boots. “Where did you want to put your garden?”

 

“Garden? What garden?”

 

“The garden to grow your own food?” Edric had taken a slight disliking to me. He apparently still held a grudge from that first time I visited and I was at a loss to work around it.

 

I was perusing her impressive… equipment… “It is just me. I do not need such a huge garden-“

 

“Yes, you do. You forget,” she poked me good-naturedly in the ribs, “that you have been eating at my home ever since you arrived.”

 

“You eat a lot!” Edric chimed in. Disgust was written all over his face.

 

“You bragged about her cooking,” I reminded him. Edric smirked.

 

“Did you bring any seed?”

 

I dug the bags from my satchels in the barn. Next thing I knew, Edric was heading back to their homestead grumbling, to bring up more. Surely, I do not eat _that_ much.

 

Do I?

 

~*~

 

No sooner than my homestead was complete and a crude well dug, I was working Sighere’s land. His little Acha had her nose in everything! What she wanted, here, there… there was green stuff growing in my garden and a pig, that was gifted to me by Sighere’s aunt, got loose and ran amuck in it, much to the amusement of Edric. Two of my mares were expecting and I hoped to have something for the king the following summer.

 

Truthfully, I hoped for more.

 

Most evenings were spent at Wudurose’s and on evenings they were not, were lonely. I learned quickly enough that bringing in a fresh hart or several rabbits softened her son’s rather abrasive attitude towards me. Sometimes, I wondered who I was courting: Wudurose or Edric.

 

I wondered if I was courting at all. Truthfully, it was not anything I had done before. Wudurose seemed friendly enough, but other than that, I could not tell.

 

This went on for some moons. Too many moons, in my esteemed, over-bearing opinion, but I was at a loss at what to do about it.

 

Luckily for me, Edric apparently did know what to do about it.

 

~*~ tbc ~*~


	3. Chapter 3

~*~ 

Chapter 03 

~*~ 

“So, when are you going to make an honest woman of my mother so the town will stop talking about her?”

My fork, which was dripping well-seasoned green beans stopped midway to my mouth.

Wudurose’s mug crashed and shattered on the floor.

“EDRIC!” She sounded horrified, something I found amusing. “I do not think-“

“No,” I interrupted quietly. “Let the boy speak.” I reached over and took her by the hand, caressing the knuckles with my thumb. “I am interested in what the town is saying.” I leaned back, still holding her hand. _Town gossips were always good for something._

Edric spent little time putting me in my place. “First off, you sit at our table, almost every evening, as if you are man of this house! And if you are not here, we are up at your place, washing your clothes, preserving your vegetables, picking your tomatoes, or …” his hands flayed about uselessly, “… or something! Mama says you are a soldier and do not know any better, so you need all the help you can get!” Wudurose’s head dropped at this pronouncement, a beautiful blush creeping over her features. “She thinks you would starve if we did not help! You could _not_ eat for days and still have enough packed away!” He stopped for a moment, a glare on his face that would be fearsome when he reached his majority.

“Eanfled, among other unmarried women in town, has done everything but fall from her blouse to catch your eye and yet you ignore her and all the rest of them! But let my mother sneeze within earshot and you are ready to call a healer!” He bowed up. In this I feared he was correct. The cupboard above my sideboard was full of jarred and preserved jellies and fruits, more sweetbreads and pies made their way to my stable and front stoop. I believe the women in town would be put out if they knew I shared them with Edric and his mother. If I ate all that was left for me, I would be fat as a pig.

“When your stallion caught colic, my mother stayed in the barn with you all night, helping you walk him. When you caught a summer cold, she spent as much time making herbal teas and taking care of you-“

“Edric,-“ Wudurose was staring at her plate, her fork clenched tightly in her hand.

“You already act as her husband! Are you afraid to ask her? Everyone in town says you moon over her like a-”

“Edric, that is enough.”

“But-“

“I said, that is enough!” Her knuckles were white.

“Edric,” I began quietly, “while you have made valid points, this is something best discussed between your mother and myself.” He opened his mouth, to protest or continue, I do not know, but I raised a finger to quell the argument. “You have said enough this night.” It dawned on me I still held her hand.

“But-“

“Enough.”

He clenched his jaw shut.

“Edric,” his mother spoke up quietly, “you may go up to your room.”

For a moment, I thought he would refuse, but he finally hurled himself from the table and climbed the ladder, a loud thud echoing through the home as he flung himself into his bed.

Wudurose exhaled loudly. “Well, that was…”

“Enlightening.” I stood up and helped her to rise. “Shall we talk?”

“I CAN STILL HEAR YOU!”

“Outside?” 

Wudurose’s shoulders slumped and she nodded affirmatively. “I do not know what has gotten into him or where he gets this stubborn streak.”

“Growing pains and sensing a new male in his territory.” I leaned over and whispered in her ear grinning, “He has much of his father in him.”

“I! CAN! STILL! HEAR! -“

“Then come down here,” Wudurose spoke up tersely, “clean the dinner table and sweep up and mop up my shattered mug! Gamling and I are going outside for a walk!”

There was a stiff breeze, the promise of rain on the wind and the assurance of chill that night. I grabbed my cloak and stepped out on the porch, waiting for her, watching her grab a cloak for herself. I nodded to the hill above her home and we made haste to reach the top. She spread her wrap on the ground for us to sit on. 

“I take it this is a request to share my cloak?” 

In the rise of the moon, I saw her smile. “Actually, it is to keep us from getting dirt or mud on our rear ends. But if you are offering…” Her voice trailed off. 

Within seconds, the two of us sat side by side, wrapped in my cloak, watching the stars and clouds, her hands clasped in mine. She was warm and smelled of kitchen herbs. 

“About what Edric said-“ 

“He is right.” 

Her jaw became unhinged. “What?” 

“He is right. I moon over you. I have for years. Even before you knew I watched you, I watched you.” It was hard work to stare at the stars and the passing clouds and not look at her because I was terrified to gaze at her. “I have watched you grow from a wild rose in Aldburg who belonged to someone else, someone more powerful than me, to a strong, resilient woman, belonging to no man and not needing one.” Now, I looked at her, not seeing the rejection I expected to observe, but wonderment. “You would have done well without Éomer’s help. I knew that before. I care not for what you have obtained for Edric, but I would be pleased if you would agree to be my wife.” I took her silence for shock. “I realize I am an old stallion-“ 

“Sometimes,” she interrupted me, “a _seasoned_ stallion is needed to keep the young, hot-headed ones in their place.” She squeezed me good-naturedly when I pulled her protectively under my arm. “They cover a mare just as well. Do you love me, Gamling?”   
I scrutinized her, her eyes, which reflected the moon. “Yes,” I whispered. She reached up and tucked a stray lock behind my ear.   
“A long time ago, on a snowy Yule, a young man stood in my cottage and told me reminiscing on good memories was nice, but one should not live in the past. They should look forward and create new, equally good memories. I believe it is past time to begin creating them. The past is gone. I have waited long enough.” 

“You have? What have you been waiting on?” 

“You.” Again, she reached up, only now she caressed my jaw. “Éomer is a memory. A wonderful, beloved memory, but I fell out of love with him long ago. ‘Tis impossible to hold on to a useless dream.” Her thumb now traced the edge of my bottom lip and I turned my head to place a kiss into the palm of her hand. “I realized four summers ago I looked forward to your coming, to seeing you. You were so serious, I did not think you returned my feelings.” 

I smiled into the cup of her palm, reaching up and holding it in mine. “I fear ghosts. You have been loved by the King,” I reminded her. “Any man would be a lesser man.” 

She looked at me solemnly. “Any man who would dare tread where the king had, would be a bigger man. It is long over, Gamling. There will be no ghosts in our bed.” 

I stared at her, taking in the moment. She met me half way to that first kiss. There was joy in it I did not expect, something I wanted more of. Eventually, we did have to come up for air. 

“Gamling?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You realize it is raining?” 

We jumped up, grabbing cloaks and running down the hill, laughing the entire way. It was pouring when we reached the front porch, both of us soaked to the skin. I grabbed her again, spinning her around and took her into my arms. 

“I CAN STILL HEAR YOU!” 

Wudurose’s head thumped my chest. “Get used to it, Edric!” I yelled back. I held her close, warm, while I looked out into the pouring rain. “I suppose I will not be making it back to my home tonight. Do you have an empty barn stall?” 

Wudurose was now peering around me, watching the storm. “It does not feel right to make you sleep in the barn,” she whispered. “You can sleep with me.” 

“No.” I tipped her chin up so I could look her in the eye. “We will do this right. In the morning, we will see Tondhere, the headman in the village and he may say the proper words over us. I will not join you in your bed until then. In the meantime,” I pulled her to the swing and sank into it, drawing her into my lap, “I wish to stay here and search the stars.” 

Her arms went around me, her head on my chest. “Searching the stars for what?” 

I clutched her to me. “To contemplate what is ours and learn again to dream.”

~*~ tbc ~*~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I would like to say 'So ends this evil bastard bunny'... notice I said... would LIKE to say..._

b>

Úreu. Æt áscian æt mæting 

****

Ours: To learn to dream. 

~*~ 

Chapter 04 

~*~ 

_One and one half years later._

“Gamling!” The Queen met me in the courtyard, a curly –headed blonde on her hip. “We thought to send a search party!” She reached out with her free arm and hugged me, kissing my cheek. She looked over my shoulder, calling, “Éomer! Look who has finally returned from the East!” 

His familiar hand clapped my shoulder, spinning me around and enveloping me in a friendly hug. “I expected you back much sooner, my friend!” There were fine wrinkles beginning to crease Éomer’s eyes. “Have you met our daughter?” 

“Éomer, he just arrived.” 

I nodded to both. “Congratulations.” I tickled the tiny foot and was gifted with a toothy, dribbly grin that looked much like her mother’s. 

“Finally, we got it right.” Éomer was all smiles. He had been hoping for a girl for a long time. He returned his full attention to me. “Are you back to take your rightful position as Captain of my guard?” 

“No, sire.” I nodded down to the barn. “I have brought two yearlings for your cavalry and a marbled Taynor yearling for your heavy wagons. He is striking and rather head strong and I thought you would appreciate the challenge.” 

Éomer was thinking deep. “You are breeding Taynors?” He took his daughter, who was reaching for him and making nonsense noises. 

“No. My _wife_ breeds Taynors.” 

Lothiriel began to squeal, a painful sound, jumping up and down. “I knew it! I knew it! I knew there was someone who caught your fancy to keep you going into the east! What took you so long?” 

Éomer stared at me with a very fixed smile. “Race you, old man.”

I smiled evilly back. “Tomorrow.”

~*~ 

“Damn your black, Mordor soul! You married Wudurose!” There was great humor in his voice, thank you Béma. 

We were in our accustomed dale, by the stream. “Aye, that I did.” I brought my own flask this time, so I would not be forced to drink Éomer’s swill. “I have loved her for a long time and was pleased when I discovered the feeling was mutual.” 

Éomer sat, leaning against a tree, his arms propped on his knees. One foot was jiggling angrily. “I am happy for you, old man. Truly, I am. I am happy for her, I am ecstatic for her… but…” 

“But what, youngling?” It amused him I still called him that, even if he were now forty-four summers. _The same age I was during The Great War._

He looked at me quizzically. “I am jealous and I should not be. I am sorry, I cannot explain it-“ 

“You loved her much, Éomer King. She has borne you a son that you cannot openly acknowledge and deep still in your heart, you wonder if things had been different.” I looked away from him, over the grasses of Rohan, my arms propped on my knees. “Love what you have, Éomer. Take joy that Rohan has prospered and that you have more than most men will know.” We spent several minutes, drinking from our flasks.

“My son needs a father,” he finally whispered. “A better father than I can be to him. One who will listen to him and teach him the matters of life. I have no doubt he will thrive under your hand.” He coughed discretely behind his fist. “I can think of no better foster father than you. I am glad for all of you.” He coughed again. “I still intend to care and provide for him and her. As long as I can.” 

“If that is your wish. It is not necessary.” 

“It is necessary,” he barked. He dropped his head as if ashamed. “It is to me.” 

We spoke of small things, of little things. He was impressed with the yearlings I had brought and looked forward to more. Finally… 

“How long will you stay with us? A week? A moon before you return?” 

“No. I leave in the morning.” 

Éomer laughed. “Missing her already?” 

I smiled to myself before lifting my flask. “Well you see, we are expecting a baby…” 

_Fini_.

_Began: May 20, 2012  
Finished: May 25, 2012_

 

Medieval food preservation

http://members.tripod.com/med_food/preserve.html

 

_As noted, my 'Westfold Taynors' are patterned after Gypsy Vanners, a beautiful and compact feathered horse bred used to pull carts as well as a children's horse. My little creation however, are the size of a Clydesdale._

_[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v152/ZeeDippyVessel/Fic%20Artwork/?action=view%C2%A4t=GypsyTanner.jpg)   
[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v152/ZeeDippyVessel/Fic%20Artwork/?action=view%C2%A4t=gvandcolt.jpg)   
[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v152/ZeeDippyVessel/Fic%20Artwork/?action=view%C2%A4t=574959_10150888487714681_1369436278_n.jpg)   
[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v152/ZeeDippyVessel/Fic%20Artwork/?action=view%C2%A4t=540458_10150888489409681_265293002_n.jpg) _


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